


Things You Forget

by dragongurl713



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-17
Updated: 2015-02-17
Packaged: 2018-03-13 09:44:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 924
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3376925
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragongurl713/pseuds/dragongurl713
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Dean was dragged into hell, Sam lost more than his brother.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Things You Forget

It’s funny, the things you’ll never get used to.  
Like looking at the window while traveling at night and seeing the empty space where your brother used to slouch beside you.  
Or freezing at the sight of the second (empty, empty) bed in the motel room every time you check in because you can never remember that you only need a single now.  
Or tilting your head whenever you get blood, crumbs or coffee drips on the Impala’s leather seat, waiting for Dean’s “Watch it!” as he whips out a napkin to remove the offending substance.  
Or, perhaps the worst of all, turning to the other bed whenever a nightmare yanks you from sleep in all its violent horror, only to find it empty, just another reminder that this is one nightmare you won’t be waking up from.  
Because every day is Tuesday and it can never be Wednesday again.  
Sam tilted the half-empty bottle against his lips, swallowing the burn as it slid down his throat and into his belly. He wrinkled his nose slightly at the sensation and taste. Even after two months of living on almost nothing else, he had never been able to enjoy whiskey the way Dean had.  
 _Dean._  
Pushing back the pain he always felt at the thought of his brother, Sam guzzled another large gulp before setting the bottle unsteadily on the nightstand. Turning back to the duffle on his bed, Sam resumed packing, neatly folding and placing his clothes into the bag.  
Once that was finished, he set the bag beside the second duffle at the door, this one full of the weapons he had cleaned the night before.  
After checking the room to ensure he had all of his belongings, he carefully remade his bed, ignoring the fact that the bed would be stripped for washing as soon as he checked out.  
Because once everything was in order and he couldn’t find anything else to do, he would have to leave. And he didn’t know where he was going.  
Or what he was doing.  
Sam had kept himself busy since Dean had died. Since he’d cleaned the blood from his brother’s torn body and left him lying in a box, six feet under in Pontiac, Illinois.  
He’d spent the first month exhausting every avenue, supernatural and otherwise, he could find on breaking Dean out of hell. But eventually, when even low-grade demons laughed derisively at his attempts, he’d turned to the one option he had left.  
Find Lilith and make her pay.  
He harbored a secret hope that this would be enough to save Dean, but accepted that revenge was most likely all he would get. Even so, it would be enough. It had to be.  
Because, despite what Ruby told him, he knew he’d never be strong enough to take her down and walk away. But as long as he took her with him, he was more than willing to give it all for his brother’s justice.  
And that was the only reason he wasn’t drinking himself to death in some deserted building in the middle of nowhere. The only purpose he had.  
But sometimes, like now, even the hunt for Lilith went cold and he was left floundering, unable to find a goal and a purpose. Unable to push past the gaping hole in his heart and life. Unable to breathe.  
It was during these times that Sam thought about the six months he had lived without Dean after the Mystery Spot and wondered how he had ever survived that long without his other half.  
Rationally, he knew that it had been the hunt for the trickster and the conviction that finding the demigod would set everything right that fueled him during those long months, but still… How could he ever have survived _six months_ when he could barely get beyond waking up?  
Finally, sighing in resignation, Sam gathered his bags, hit the light switch and shut the door behind him. He dropped both duffels into the trunk before sliding into the front seat. He slipped the key into the ignition and cranked it, unconsciously relaxing as the familiar rumble shook the air and the seats.  
Out of habit, he reached for the box of cassettes sitting on the floor, just like he always did.  
And, just like always, he stopped just short of the tapes, fingers just barely brushing the plastic. He sat that way for a moment, willing himself to stop being such a girl and just do it.  
Instead, he curled his fingers into his palm and drew his hand back. As much as he hated the silence, he couldn’t make himself listen to any of his brother’s music without Dean beside him.  
He placed his hands on the wheel, shifted the car into drive and...sat there. The feeling of being lost washed over him again and he clenched the metal wheel. Why was he even in this car? Where was he supposed to go? What was he supposed to do?  
What was he supposed to do?  
His eyes grew wet and his breathing accelerated, but, just before he slipped into a panic attack, his phone rang.  
Startled, Sam slipped it out of his pocket and stared at the screen.  
 _Ruby._  
And just like that, the anxiety eased and he took a full breath. Ruby would tell him where to go, what to do.  
After a brief conversation, he pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road.  
He had a direction now.  
And everything would be okay.


End file.
